Before Crisis: The Beginning
By DarkAngel
Disclaimer: Square-Enix owns it all. Moo. Baa. Oink.
Chapter 21: Discontent
The next day, Rafe hauled himself out of bed and made his way up to the rooftop of Shin-Ra headquarters, where a chopper was waiting for him. Nodding to the pilot, he got in the passenger side and stared out the window as the city receded. The sky grew from a greenish-black to yellow and then eventually to blue as they left the city behind and flew across the bay to Junon. The soothing sound of the rotors overhead and the picturesque ocean below put Rafe in mind of sleep, but he shook the impulse off. He had to adjust to his new life here; otherwise he wouldn't be able to function. He'd just have to live with feeling weary for a while.
When they landed, it was getting on towards evening. The first thing Rafe did was check in with Veld, who told him to scout the city for any further clues before attending the meeting in the church with the Gaeans.
Search for clues… Rafe shrugged. SOLDIER and the Junon guards had been making inquiries ever since the pre-emptive seizure of the cannon by the terrorists. Not surprisingly, they hadn't been able to uncover anything aside from a few warehouse manifests where AVALANCHE had been keeping supplies, and that in itself was a dead end, as the group had abandoned those resources and there was no way to trace them from just a few slips of paper. And then there was nothing saying that the Gaeans for Planetary Restoration were connected with AVALANCHE. All that was there between the two groups was uncanny timing and similar objectives… with a strong anti-Shin-Ra sentiment.
Making his way slowly to the church, Rafe kept his eyes open for anything unusual. The city had recovered quickly from the terrorist threat. People filled the evening streets, enjoying the boons of an unseasonably warm evening. There were even tables laid out in front of cafes, and people sipped drinks and ate their meals, laughing, talking. It was like a scene out a film, Rafe thought, where everybody enjoyed life and nothing remotely bad happened to any of the characters, because let's face it, bleak reality never sold in the box offices.
Turning onto the street where the church was located, Rafe looked up at the building. It was a fairly new construction, modest and clean. It wasn't grand by any stretch of the imagination, but it probably did what it was supposed to, and that was good enough. Eyes scanning lampposts and telephone poles, he saw a fresh profusion of signs, these ones bearing the text 'GAEANS FOR A SUSTAINABLE PLANET. REJECT MAKO ENERGY, THE BLOOD OF INNOCENTS!'
Well. They were attention grabbing. What else could he say?
He decided not to take them down. He still had this meeting in the church to go to after all, and if someone passing by saw him removing the flyers, he'd be calling unwanted attention to himself. Instead he headed to the entrance, adjusting the hood of his pullover as he did.
Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he looked around. The reception desk was empty once more, and, Rafe noticed, the pamphlets he'd taken were back as well. It looked as if they had spontaneously multiplied, as they took up almost the entire shelf, crammed hither and thither into every available space. The group sure was insistent about getting its message across. Interesting.
"Ah, you've decided to come after all!"
Rafe turned around to face the man he'd been speaking to in the church the last time. He nodded at the older man.
"You're frightfully early, though. The meeting doesn't start for an hour yet." The old man peered at Rafe, hands clutching his cane. He put Rafe in mind of a caged bird with his curious eyes, slightly hunched posture and gnarled hands on the stick.
"I thought I'd take a look around the church," Rafe answered, shrugging. "I didn't really get a chance to the last time."
"Oh, of course, of course. Would you like me to show you around? There isn't that much to do until the meeting, and I do love this place."
Rafe cocked his head. "Sure, why not?"
As they walked into the main hall of worship, the man spoke amiably about the church's history, about the buildings, community projects and his job in the church.
"Are you a member of the Gaeans as well?" Rafe asked, once they'd gotten off the topic of guest preachers the church was thinking of inviting the next season. "I'd like to talk a little bit about that, if you don't mind."
"No, of course I don't mind." The man beamed. "I'm not as dedicated as some of the others, but I do come out to all the meetings."
Something about this struck Rafe as odd. The last time Rafe had been here, the man had gotten out a book to check the times the group met, as if he didn't know. What was going on?
"Are the meetings always on Thursday?" Rafe ventured. "I work a lot of Thursdays; it was just lucky I got today off."
"Well," the man said, nodding affably, "I guess they are at that. They used to be held on Tuesdays, but the leader of the group said that Tuesday was suddenly a no-go and it got moved to Thursdays."
A no-go? "Why did they move the days?" Rafe said. Perhaps he was being imprudent, but he really was curious.
"I don't know. I remember he was saying he wanted to expand operations to Midgar. He's a busy man, you know. They started out as a small group in Cosmo Canyon."
Just like AVALANCHE had. Rafe wanted to ask who this guy was, but he'd already gone out on a limb, and if he asked any more questions like these, he'd arouse his guide's suspicion. He smiled instead, putting out a hand. "I don't think I got your name. I'm Kale."
"Potter. Bartholomew Potter." The man took a hand off his staff to shake Rafe's.
"Thanks for answering my questions," Rafe said. "I had a pretty rough time back in Midgar, and it's been hard talking to anybody else."
"You mentioned something about that before," Bartholomew commented. He didn't pry, although the look he shot Rafe was curious.
After some feigned hesitancy, Rafe began to speak. "You see, I grew up in the slums of Midgar. Wall Market. It's a rough place to grow up."
"Yes." Bartholomew nodded. "We've had quite a few people drifting in from Midgar. They all say the same thing."
"Yeah." Rafe paused. "I wanted to see life on the surface, just once. You know… all you can see below is metal. So I decided one day waiting and wishing wasn't going to work. I decided to get out of the slums. That's when my troubles began."
Rafe weaved what he considered a skilful story of adventure, loss and betrayal, followed by a forced exodus, hiding from Shin-Ra troops while he tried to lay low here. He must have done a good job, because Bartholomew was nodding vigorously, his cheeks flushed, eyes shining.
"You'll be safe," he said. "Shin-Ra can't hurt you here."
It was a strangely confident statement, and Rafe could only nod. He smiled at Bartholomew. "I'm glad."
People began to trickle into the church. Bartholomew led Rafe into a small activities room where several people were seated in foldout chairs. Looking around, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the middle class-like gathering took him somewhat by surprise. Neat sweaters, smartly combed hair, subdued colours, small but earnest murmurs. It looked more like an afternoon tea than a violent resistance group.
Rafe took a seat at the back, nodding at Bartholomew, who said he had some errands to run before the meeting started. He felt a little underdressed but decided that his hoodie and jeans were far preferable to his suit. Between the two, this stuck out less.
The door opened again, and Rafe turned around in his seat. A thin man with glasses and short hair wearing a fitted button down shirt and slacks came in, smiling pleasantly at the group, which had gone silent. So this was the representative for the Gaeans for Planetary Restoration.
"Ladies and gentlemen, greetings. I thank you for coming once again to our weekly meeting." He bowed slightly. "We have many things on the agenda tonight, so let's not waste any time."
As he was speaking, Bartholomew returned and sat beside Rafe, his face shining with excitement. Rafe wondered just what it was that was so rousing. The man up at the front wasn't saying anything groundbreaking. He too turned his attention back to the front of the room.
"- funding campaigns around the world. It's thanks to your donations that we have been able to go as far as Icicle continent to spread our message."
There was clapping. Rafe clapped as well, watching the crowd. A good many of them looked as ecstatic as Bartholomew did. Really, what was it about this group? This man?
The rest of the meeting was spent going over initiatives, programs and clean up rallies happening down at the beaches. Then members began to get up to the front of the room, encouraged by the Gaean leader, telling stories about the old Junon beach, about "saving the planet" – mako boycotts, community support – and finally, Rafe was made to get up to introduce himself. He did, albeit reluctantly; to disagree would have meant inviting unwanted scrutiny.
Afterwards, Rafe spoke with Bartholomew and several other members. The Gaean leader had gone home immediately after the meeting.
"What did you think?" Bartholomew said, beaming at Rafe.
He thought about what to say for a moment. "He's very charismatic, isn't he? It's too bad he couldn't stay. I would have liked to talk to him."
"Oh, he's always travelling and doing everything he can to make the Gaeans a global presence." This came from a young man with blonde hair.
"Does that man – I didn't get his name – always come here? I mean, if he's always doing other work, it must be hard for him to make it here every week. That's dedicated of him."
"Well, you see, Mr. Fuhito does most of the meetings, but sometimes there's another man named Shears that conducts them. They're both very passionate. We're lucky to have them."
Rafe had tuned out most of what was being said as soon as the words Fuhito and Shears had cropped up. So it was them. There was a connection.
The Gaeans were AVALANCHE.
-----
Samantha was not happy. After going up on deck, she and Rude had had a fight – or it felt like a fight anyway; Samantha wasn't sure what it had been. Nothing she had said had swayed Rude, and he had only stonewalled her objections. In the end, there had been nothing to talk about. But she still seethed. That fight had rightfully been hers and he had taken it from her. No amount of talk – or non-talk, as it were – changed that fact.
And then the phone had rung, cutting off any further argument. It was Tseng, telling them that AVALANCHE was docked in the port and that they were on their way. Darkly, Samantha thought to herself that it would be good if Rude didn't try to take the fun out of this too. As if reading her mind, Rude told her to head out to cut AVALANCHE off while he stayed on board to try and get the vessel moving, away from the docks. Grateful, she left the ship, looking out across the pier for signs of the enemy.
She didn't have far to look. There they were, all uniformed, gathering several hundred yards from the vessel. And with them was a burly man in a bandana.
"Shears," she whispered. It had to be. He matched Rosalind's description. Ooookay. So this was going to be a little tough. There were so many of them, and with one of the AVALANCHE leaders with them, well…
I haven't got time for thoughts like that, Samantha thought. There was only one entrance to the ship, and she had her shotgun. She wouldn't let a single one of them on board.
She heard Shears shouting and gesturing in various directions. The men under his command moved in formation. A left and right flank each, as well as one that would attack from the centre. Divide to conquer. Samantha raised a derisive eyebrow. Well, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
The first of the men from each of the columns approached. Samantha raised her weapon.
The fight was unexpectedly straightforward. She practically mowed down the AVALANCHE members that got within range of her shotgun. Not a single one of them escaped.
She was just turning her attention to Shears when a larger group of operatives came marching around the corner. They stopped beside Shears, saluting. She raised her eyebrows at this. How many men were there? Surely he wasn't going to try and win by numbers? It was such a depressingly simple plan, and she really didn't want to have to expend the bullets for something as passé as their Plan A had been.
As it turned out, the nature of their attack had changed – instead of splitting off and making a run for the ship, the operatives, Samantha soon found out, had been instructed to split off in different directions – and then converge on her.
"This could be tough," Samantha murmured, watching the flanks running, taking out weapons as they did. Then she smiled. So much the better.
But they had planned far better than she had given them credit for. Even with her shotgun, the attacks from multiple angles distracted her, so that at the battle's end, she found that Shears was gone. Whipping around at the noise behind her, she felt a mingled relief and trepidation at the sight of Rude making his way down the gangplank anchoring the ship to the dock. She called out to him. Why was he down here? Why hadn't the ship moved off somewhere safer?
"There are intruders on board," he said, nodding back up at the ship.
"Well, we're not letting any more of them get even close to the ship!"
"Obviously." Rude looked at a point somewhere beyond Samantha's head. "Get ready. Here they come!"
Another wave of operatives had come running around to their side of the dock and were barrelling at them full-tilt, shouting, weapons raised. Give me a break, Samantha thought. While she no longer scoffed at the repetitiveness of the tactics – some of the operatives had broken through her defence and gotten on board the vessel, after all – she was frustrated with the seemingly endless wave of men that AVALANCHE was throwing at them. Just how many of them were there?!
"Are you all right?" Rude asked, when at last, the attacks had subsided. It didn't look as if any more operatives would be coming to join their comrades.
Catching a stitch in her side, Samantha nodded. "It's not a problem," she said, letting a smirk glide across her features. "What about you, Rude? You look a little worn out. Are you all right?"
Rude made a soft noise that wasn't quite a snort. A small expression that was almost a smile touched his lips. This was familiar territory to them both. "Nice comeback," he rumbled. "Don't get complacent, though."
"Understood," Samantha replied with a grin. I won that one, she thought smugly.
They both turned, ready to make their way back to the vessel and clear out the AVALANCHE operatives that had gotten in when someone shouted at them to stop. Samantha spun on her heel. Let me guess…
A guess would have been wasted, it was so patently obvious. She nearly snorted with disdain at the sight before her.
AVALANCHE operatives. Four of them. Even as she raised her shotgun they were splitting up. Two of them came running with melee weapons, while the other two backed them up with pistols. Samantha took out two of them with her shotgun, and Rude used Grand Spark to disable the third man. The last one standing took aim at Samantha, but collapsed screaming as a fire spell overtook him.
Samantha and Rude waited tensely to see if more operatives would come out. After that many false stops and starts, neither of them was all that sure anymore. A few more seconds passed. Samantha placed a hand on her hip, cradling her weapon in her crook of her arm.
"Well, that's that, I suppose. Something's off, though…"
And it flashed in her mind like lightning. Shears! She turned wide eyes to Rude. "Where's Shears?!"
"Samantha, are you sure?" He didn't need to ask what she was thinking; he knew perfectly well that if Shears had been there in front of her and he was no longer there, there was only one place he could have gone.
She nodded grimly. "Yes." It had been him, and he wasn't here.
"Get back to the ship. Hurry!" He sprinted up the gangplank. Samantha followed, ignoring the stitch in her side as it acted up again.
As they ran full speed up the entrance and into the ship, they ran into men and women running in the opposite direction, heading for the exit. Samantha's heart dropped into her shoes. Those were the SOLDIER candidates they'd worked so hard to collect. Shears had released them.
"Forget about them!" Rude shouted without looking back. He turned a corridor, ignoring a frightened escapee as he barrelled past him. "Shears! We need to find Shears!"
But Samantha wasn't thinking any more about the escapees or even Shears anymore. Rather, she was looking for one particular escapee as she and Rude ran for the hold where the candidates had been held.
Where was Azul…?
When they got to the hold, Shears was waiting for them, arms crossed, an arrogant look sitting on his rough face. "Back already?" he said, leaning against the electrified pen – only it was no longer electrified. Samantha's eyes travelled to the switch that activated the current and saw that it had been smashed in. Shears' handiwork.
"Shears!" she shouted. For reasons she couldn't explain, the deep discontent which had been simmering beneath the surface burst forth now in a fit of rage. She didn't see Azul here either. Only Shears.
"It's a good thing you came," Shears said, pushing his weight off the pen, uncrossing his arms. "You saved me the trouble of coming to find you. You're both gonna die. Right here, right now." His knuckles cracked, and he looked at them both with an expression very much like relish.
Beside her, Rude had gone stiff and quiet. It wasn't unusual, this state of being for the tall man, but there was something in his aura that made the hairs on the back of Samantha's neck stand up.
Shears seemed to sense the change as well, because he smiled. It was a fully confident, condescending expression, and suddenly, the rage flew out of Samantha and was replaced by uncertainty. She had the feeling that, should Rude and he fight, Rude would not come out the victor. She said nothing though, watching the two men. From beside her, Rude spoke at last. His voice was harsh; the sound of it made Samantha want to flinch.
"Samantha, go and find the escaped candidates!"
She shook her head, ignoring her body's pleas to just do as Rude was saying. "I can't. Even Reno couldn't stand up to this guy. You can't win alone." She forced herself to move forward, in front of Rude, so that she was between him and Shears.
"Where are you going?" Rude demanded. She heard the sound of creaking leather. He was flexing his gloved fists. Samantha swallowed.
"I'm going to get Reno," she said, as calmly as she could. Maybe she could talk him out of this. To face him alone would be tantamount to suicide, even for Rude. So many things had gone wrong, and while she was torn – she wanted to find Azul – she knew ultimately that leaving Rude here to face Shears on his own was a very bad idea. This man had defeated Reno. He had injured Rosalind. He was capable of much worse.
"Forget about Reno… let him sleep." Rude's voice brooked no argument.
"But this is too dangerous!" Samantha half-wailed, half-shrieked at him. Anger was once again pulsing in her veins. Men! Stupid, reckless, stubborn men! What was it that made them think themselves invincible in even the most impossible of circumstances? It was maddening!
And still Rude didn't look at her. Oh, he was good at stonewalling, she thought, frustrated. He opened his mouth, and she could guess what he would say. "I'll take care of him. You go and find the escaped candidates. Those are your orders." The last few words were emphasized firmly. She couldn't refuse. Refusal was insubordination, and a Turk who couldn't follow orders was…
She nodded stiffly. Prepared as she had been to hear him say it, she couldn't stop feeling trapped… and offended. This fight was clearly very important to him, though Shiva only knew why. It was probably some primeval chest thumping thing, and…
Suddenly the thought of Reno flashed into her mind. Shears was the one who had injured Reno…
Her eyes widened. "Rude…" She nodded again, this time smiling confidently. "Okay, I understand. Leave the capture of those candidates to me."
She strode past him, turning her back on Shears. Whatever happened would happen. She had a job to do. No matter how impossible the mission, the Turks will see it through…It might have been cliché, but clichés were what they were for a reason, after all, and Samantha was a Turk, and a Hartigan on top of that.
"I'll be back soon!" she called. Rude didn't answer back, but she didn't let it bother her. He had his work to do, and she had hers.
"I'll flatten anybody that gets in my way," she murmured. "And I'll get all those candidates, every single one of them, back onto that boat."
-----
After the meeting in the church, Rafe went back to the Junon branch office and got through to Veld, reporting everything he'd seen and heard.
"I see," Veld said thoughtfully over the line. "I'll report this to the President. It seems we've underestimated the extent of the threat the enemy presents. Do you think the Gaeans are connected with AVALANCHE's activities?"
"Some of them might be," Rafe replied, "but I doubt most of them are. They're being duped the same as everybody else, giving funds for what they think is campaigns and peaceful resistance methods." He paused. "What are we going to do? There are a lot of other branches of AVALANCHE around the world and probably as many of these stooge groups." They had been lucky to hit upon the connection here with the Junon front group and AVALANCHE, but there was no other way to get clues to the other groups as far as he could see. He had asked Bartholomew but he hadn't known anything about the other groups outside Junon. Neither had any of the other members. AVALANCHE had taken great care to cover their tracks.
"I'll be sending Rosalind and St. Andrew out to different locations to scout the other groups. How are you feeling about another mission?" Veld asked. Rafe cocked his head.
"Where did you want me to go next?"
"Nibelheim. Rosalind will be going to Icicle and St. Andrew will be here in Midgar."
Rafe nodded. "And the other locations?" Belatedly he appended a "sir" to the question.
"I've got others working on those locations. Report to me when you arrive."
Others? But there was only him, St. Andrew, and Rosalind. The others were all in Costa del Sol bringing back the last of the SOLDIER candidates. He didn't say anything, merely acknowledging his orders. When he had hung up, he closed his eyes briefly. They had spread quickly, AVALANCHE. How long had this been in the offing? The very planet was under siege and it wasn't at all aware. All this was building up to something big and most certainly unpleasant; Rafe knew it. The noose was tightening. Though things had only just started, Rafe could feel behind him something silken and cold tighten around his neck.
-----
The sun was shining brightly as it always did, beating down upon the sun seeking beachgoers, baking the clay roofs of the villas and warming the cobbled stones of the pavement beneath Samantha's feet. The sound of laughter beyond the doors of the bar she was standing in front of grew louder, then faded to a dull din as the doors closed. A group of men wearing swimming trunks whistled at her and called for her to join them on the beach, roaring with drunken laughter. She ignored them, honing her senses in search of her prey.
Where had they gone? Costa wasn't exactly a small backwater town, and they could be anywhere by now. She blew out an exasperated breath. Really, that meant she'd have to start a search from scratch. The longer she stayed out here, wasting time in tracking escapees, the less chance Rude had of winning that fight, no matter how much bravado he put into his assertions. Why hadn't he at least let her wake Reno up?
Turning on her heel, she entered the bar, shoving her thoughts into the periphery.
The bar was filled with patrons in swimsuits and sundresses. The air inside smelled of coconut rum and sweetgrass. A few patrons looked up at her when she came in, and their eyes were drawn to her weapon. Silence fell, and rippled as she marched to the bar. Without wasting any time, she addressed the proprietor.
"I'm looking for some fugitives. Has anybody come by here that looked as if they were in a hurry to blend in or escape?"
Although she'd said this as lowly as possible, it was clear that pretty much the entire establishment had heard her. She could practically hear them holding their breath.
"Nobody like that's been in here," the proprietor said. He jerked his head at her gun. "Nobody else will come in here either, with that big gun of yours."
Samantha knew a hint when she heard one. She nodded and took her leave.
Now where to? Just outside the bar was a set of steps leading to a different part of the resort town. Turning right would lead to the path out of town. While she wasn't going to discount that just yet, she had to sweep Costa itself first. There was a good chance that many of those runaways here hiding someplace nearby, after all. The path to the left would lead to more shops and to the beach proper. She settled on the path straight ahead, down the steps.
The street here was lined by villa houses. They meandered down the street to the left and the right. As Samantha arrived at the bottom of the steps, she saw a furtive figure dash into one of the houses. She followed.
At the sound of her entry, the escapee turned around. Terrified eyes greeted her. Sun poured through the open window, and a shaft of light caught the man's face, which was covered in a thick sheen of sweat.
"I didn't think you'd find me, not this fast…" the man muttered. He sounded as if he was speaking to himself. Then, as if coming to some deep inner decision, he nodded, squaring his shoulders, turning to face her. "I've got no choice then. I've got to fight."
He turned and grabbed a long, thin object from behind him. The dissonant sound of metal scraping against metal screeched abrasively against Samantha's ears. When she saw what the object was, she couldn't help it. She laughed.
It was a poker. A poker for a fireplace in a town where the temperatures never dipped lower than twenty degrees at night. Utterly ridiculous.
Wiping tears from her eyes with one hand, her head snapped up, and, before the man could move she'd thrown a fire spell at him. He dropped the poker with a shriek. Marching to him, she hauled him up with a free hand, jabbing her weapon into his chest. Not that she needed to. She could incapacitate him with magic, but the shotgun got the point across so much more effectively.
"Try anything untoward and I'll kill you," she said lowly. Just in case he hadn't gotten the point the first time, of course. When the man nodded his understanding with a few jerky bobs of his head, she purred: "Now, where have the other candidates gone, I wonder?"
He shook his head frantically. The sweat was actually whipping off his face now. Samantha winced as a drop of it hit her on the cheek. Disgusting. "I don't know. I came here by myself."
"I see. Too bad," Samantha said. She knocked him out with the butt of her shotgun. Well, that was one man down. She couldn't drag him with her back to the ship or take him with her while she searched for the other escapees, but…
Reaching into a pocket, she found what she was looking for. A bunch of clips used to tag animals. They all had small tracking devices installed, and she could follow them up with her PHS later. I knew these would be useful, she thought happily, clipping a tag onto the lapel of the unconscious man.
She made her way back outside. Blinking in the sunshine, she wondered where she should go next. Her eyes fell unconsciously to the path leading to the beach, and she shook her head. She doubted any of them would be working on their tan. Sighing, she continued her way down the street.
A few houses along, she heard a scuffling sound and hushed, irritated male voices. Hmm…
Cautiously, she put a hand on the doorknob. Then, counting down to one in her mind, she shoved the door open. It gave way with an almighty bang, startling the occupants inside. She smiled at the men inside. They were definitely escapees.
"A Turk!!" one of the men shouted. "I didn't come all this way just so I could get caught again!" He charged her.
Within minutes, both men were down and Samantha was administering more sleeping serum and tracking tags. She stood over her handiwork for a few seconds, then nodded, satisfied. Neither of these men had been willing to tell her anything, but she figured she could get a good number of the candidates back. If they were all as simple as these ones were…
Again her mind flashed to Azul. No, not all of them would be this simple. She frowned.
There was nobody in Club Duel, either. The bouncer had refused to let her in at first, but after she had pushed her weight a bit, he had let her through. He had been telling the truth. The place was completely empty. She left the club disappointed. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but not that. Sighing, she held her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. And then she saw him.
"That's… one of them," she said, watching with eyebrows raised as the prisoner darted furtively from behind some sedge palm and into the bar.
She found him as soon as she entered the establishment. The imbecile was actually ordering a drink. She stepped forward. "You there," she said, tossing her head. "You'll be coming back with me."
The customers were goggling at her again, looking from her to the man, who was standing gape-mouthed with his drink in his hand. Then, as if deciding to throw caution to the wind, he drained the glass in one go and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. "I've been found, huh."
Well, obviously. Samantha rolled her eyes. "We're going back to the ship. Come on."
"No way I'm gonna!" The man scrambled back, putting a stool between them. Samantha's eyes flickered to it, then to him. He was kidding, right? She raised her weapon.
"I'd rather we do this painlessly," she said, in her best mother-knows-best voice. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather -?"
"Get the hell away from me!" the man screamed, throwing his glass at her. It shattered on the wall behind her. The patrons screamed. "Freaky bitch! You think I'm gonna go because you say so?!"
Why did he have to cause such a fuss? Samantha sighed. She was getting a headache.
The battle was quick. One well placed shot that got him simultaneously in both kneecaps had him prostrate before her. Grabbing him by the hair, she smiled. "Now, why don't you tell me where the other candidates are?"
They stared at each other, brown eyes meeting blue. The man spat. "How the fuck would I know?"
"I see. Well… Then you leave me no choice."
After the second round of shots, the man was screaming to let him tell her everything he knew. Sobbing, he said that the majority of the escapees had headed to another boat docked near the Shin-Ra vessel. It was the AVALANCHE boat.
To be continued…
Author's Notes: Just a quick note to say thanks to everyone that's been reading along and reviewing. :) You've totally made my day.